


Love needs its martyrs

by simulacraryn



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bramie, Brienne is the Best, D&D are idiots, F/M, Fix-It, Gift Fic, Nobody wanted that crappy ending, POV Alternating, POV Brienne, POV Brienne of Tarth, POV Jaime Lannister, POV Jamie, Romance, Spoilers, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-08-13 06:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20169652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simulacraryn/pseuds/simulacraryn
Summary: Of all the things Jamie had done for love, staying had not been one of them. As he's about to make the biggest possible mistake of his life, serendipity (or rather a well placed Arya Stark) happens. Thank the Three-Eyed Raven, won't you?(Or rather this author is terrible with summaries and cannot be paid enough to write a proper one)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aviss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/gifts).

> This is my first GOT related fanfic and I chose to show some love to my favorite ship on the show - Bramie. They were certainly done dirty, no matter what the heck NCW says to keep the rabid fans at bay. So enjoy this fluff piece! 
> 
> My suggestion is that you listen to the following Depeche Mode songs while you listen: Surrender, Insight and Home from the album Ultra. 
> 
> Also, this gift is for the person who inspired it: Aviss! Their AU stuff and their general Bramie stuff is what really got me to move my fingers on the keyboard. ˆ_ˆ

"The things we do for love." would become the statement to haunt the rest of Jamie Lannister's days until The Stranger came for him. It became a seal upon his life, the day he pushed Bran Stark out of that window and with that very act threw flames into the wildfyre cache that was Jon Arryn's death. For the love of the innocent, he soiled his honor by running Aerys through the sword. For Cersei's love, he forsook his birthright to Casterly Rock and joined the Kingsguard only to further soil their pristine white cloaks. What hadn't he done for love?

_Stay_.

He didn't stay by Brienne's side for her love. He took her maidenhead, like the hateful and selfish Oathbreaker he'd been and ruined her honor. He rode south, destroying every chance he ever had at true joy. At least this was the narrative that Jamie painfully left Brienne with. She deserved better than what he could offer her, at least this is what he constantly muttered on the road south to Kings Landing.

Love, Jamie noted, was as foolish as an errant knight who dreamt of being in songs about maidens and duty. Pulling on the reins of his horse, Jamie urged forward. The ride to Kings Landing took a moon and it's already been a sennight since the mixed host of Stark and Targaryen forces were marching south. They shouldn't be too far ahead, right? Once again, he did awful things for love - this time _surrendering_ honest love for the sake of an unborn babe.

If only Cersei hadn't told him that she was once again with child, it would make this far easier to do. He should have told Brienne the God's honest truth of his impending ride south. But how do you tell the woman you've taken to bed - "Why yes, I plan to ride south to save my unborn bastard with my twin!" - It was already difficult enough to acknowledge that he once had three children and they were all dead as a result of this very war for The Iron Throne. May the Stranger see it fit to melt the fucking thing once and for all!

Taking careful consideration in the dead of the night not to steer his horse towards one of the soft ditches on the ground, Jamie could have sworn he'd heard something not too far behind. He urged his horse to slow down, his head turning briefly to the sides. Nothing coming from the off trails, so that meant no bloody mummers. That however didn't mean someone wouldn't have recognized him and taken the chance to lop off Jamie's head and taken it back to which ever Queen loathed him the most at present moment.

Cersei would have likely used him as an example of what happens when you cross her. The Dragon Queen would have shot whomever one of those innocous smiles that _did not fool him at all_ and offered a place at her table. But the one that terrified him the most was Lady Stark, the (yet to be proclaimed) Queen in the North. Out of anyone else, she had the most reason to _want_ his head resting over her hearth as a warning to anyone who angered the wolves of Winterfell. He did, afterall, had a good hand in the fall of House Stark. Not to mention, pissed off the only person to vouch for him in that freezing hell they called a home.

"Seven hells!" - Jamie heard a call from the distance, a voice he hoped hadn't had the audacity to follow him all the way here. - "Jamie Lannister, you better slow that horse down!"

_Wench,_ he thought bitterly to himself. Of course she wouldn't have listened, not at all because she was _Ser_ Brienne of Tarth and she is as relentless as she is noble. He had half a mind to slow down his horse, but soon he found himself stopped as another horse leapt in the way of his. - "Stop right there, _Kingslayer_" came the voice of the ever dangerous Arya Stark. Her eyes narrowed as Jamie pulled his horse to a full stop, not daring to cross his fellow Kingslayer.

Brienne's horse caught with him as he turned to face her, finding that she wasn't alone. Not at all. Podrick was not too far behind, the both of them armored and seemingly ready to fight him. Not that Jamie would dare face off an angered Brienne, considering he was the object of her anger.

"What in the seven hells are you doing here, Kingslayer?"

The lack of expression to Arya Stark made Jamie's blood run cold, but it was the use of the insult that forced him to respond in kind. - "You see, _Lady Arya_, I am heading to King's Landing."

"Let me guess," - She sounded contrite, equally annoyed by the use of her actual title. Good, Jamie thought, see if she likes being referred to by something she did not identify as for once. - "Going to save your sister from my blade?"

There is a standoff between them, tensions rising as Brienne and Podrick both kept their eyes on them. Jamie laughs at the question.

"And you're going to go kill her."

"She is on my list, Lannister." - Arya says dryly - "If I have to kill you to get to her, then I suppose that is just what it'll have to be. Still, I know liars and you're deflecting my question. _Are you going to get in my way?_"

If he didn't tell Arya the truth, she'd run him through her dagger and carry on to kill Cersei and his child. To admit the truth would be to add on to the insulting lies he'd told Brienne. Breathing in, Jamie knew all eyes were on him and that if he didn't tell the truth it would be his life. Damning it all to seven hells, he dismounted and watch as Arya followed suit. They seized each other up, Jamie noting that whilst Arya was a good head shorter than Jamie - she made up for her lithe body in agility and her Braavosi style. In his Golden Days, he would've been a fine match against her - but short of a hand and surrounded by the Stark's sworn shield and Squire, he was outnumbered and outmatched.

"_No_" - He answered, staring Ayra in the eye.

"Then why are you really going, then, Ser Jamie? Why say all you said, if you're not there to join her in death? Or save her for that matter."

The coldness in Brienne's voice was a knock against his chest.

"She had said she's with child on the day I was to come North to fight the Dead."

"Have you ever thought she could have lied to you?" - Arya cut through before anyone else would've had a chance to swallow the news. - "Anything to keep you by her side as she hoped we were overrun by the Dead. Sansa once told me your sister would do anything to keep power over anyone she thinks ought to serve her. In this case that includes you."

Jamie hadn't given any of what Cersei said to him any thought. Even after everything he'd known her to be capable of doing, including the destruction of the Great Sept, he'd been foolish enough to believe a word out of her mouth. Slumping his shoulders, a bitter laugh overtook him. - "She did say I was the stupidest Lannister." - The bitterness clung to his every word and Arya didn't yield when addressing Jamie.

"No, you just wanted a chance at regaining what you lost. Bran said as much when he asked that I move ahead of you."

Bran Stark. The name that would haunt him until the Stranger took him, alongside his own wretched words. His most hateful act in this world had been that and for it the Gods had seen it fit he pay it sevenfold. Yet, the lad, or whatever became of him saw it fit that he get hauled back to Winterfell and away from Cersei. He felt a hard lump in his throat and unconsciously reached with his right hand only to feel the cold golden hand where his fingers should've soothed the gulp back down his gullet.

Angrily, he looked at the painful appendage and flung his arm to the side. The loosely tied straps that he could never quite secure with his left hand came undone, the hand landing before Arya's horse. - "Are you still planning to head down to King's Landing?"

"I still have to go. If I can't kill your sister, I still have another Queen that may need slaying."

Daenerys.

"What did Bran see?"- He asked, his voice low. Arya went quiet, in that dreaded Stark fashion where they were about to lay cold facts upon you. It reminded him of honorable Ned, blunt and quick to tell you exactly as he felt about the situation. His daughter bore his stern expression well and he dreaded to think what Lord Eddard Stark would have taught his daughter if he'd survived Kings Landing.

"You should hear it from Bran himself."

_Brienne_.

He did not dare turn his gaze upon her, dreading her expression.

"I can't go back to Winterfell, Lady Stark will have my head for leaving in the first place."

"You were never our prisoner. You were a guest of the Lady of Winterfell, coming to our aid as promised by the Queen in King's Landing. Nevermind the fact the Queen purposely left you with no men to bring to said aid, thus cementing the North's independence from the Crown. They all forget, Torrhen Stark bent the knee to spare his people Aegon's flames much like the Dornish married into House Targaryen. We were never conquered. It was a mistake the _foreign_ Dragon Queen made by assuming we would have bent to her. Especially after her father made sure to sever the North's loyalty to the crown by killing our grandfather and uncle."

This entire thing was giving Jamie a headache. This is why he didn't do politics.

"Add in all the other things the following Crowns did to House Stark and it's a case of no matter whose arse sits on that chair, the Northmen do not belong south of the Neck."

But Arya Stark was as shrewd as they came, Jamie realized and came to respect the emboldened nature of the young woman before him. The wheel was breaking and it didn't need a Targaryen to shatter it. The women of the realm had been carving their own path and Jamie couldn't help but be proud of those women who built themselves out of the ashes. Sansa Stark, idealistic young child, learned to play the bitter game and did not allow it to warp her senses. Arya Stark? She eschewed the traditional dictates of being a Lady, earning herself songs of her tales. Little Lyanna Mormont, whom Jamie didn't truly know, had shown far more resilience against the Army of the Dead. He often wondered if life had been different, if Myrcella would've been allowed to be like the strong Ladies he'd somehow surrounded himself with? Then he turned his gaze towards Brienne, feeling a weight crush him down inwardly.

"Ser Brienne, I trust you'll take Ser Jamie back to Winterfell?"- Arya tightened her hold over her reigns.

"You have my word."

Damnit, the wench was going to drag him back to Winterfell.

"Then I'll ride south, hopefully this will be my last trip to that Gods forsaken castle."

Jamie, unable to stop the Stark girl, was forced to watch her gallop onward. He sent a prayer to the Seven and the Old Gods the northmen worshipped - that she be kept safe from the Dragon and it's fire. He would've had half a mind to follow, but not when Brienne's horse came up next to his, her head turned in his direction. - "You heard her. You're coming back to Winterfell with us even if I have to tie you to your own horse and have Pod lead it back."

"Ser," - Podrick was now flanking Jamie's opposing side. - "What of Lady Arya?"

"We cannot dissuade her,"- Brienne said tactifully - "but she's always been crafty. If anyone can possibly drill sense into her, it'll be The Hound. He rode south, as well. Something about..." - She trailed off and Jamie understood it was not her intention to repeat what he knew the old Dog likely said. Instead, he chuckled, following the trail off with his own words.

"About that undead cunt, Gregor."

There is an unease that he is guilty of as they gallop back toward the North.

* * *

It was close to the morning bells when they made it to the gates. The watch had yet to change and for that, Jamie was grateful. They didn't question when the three of them rode up, only informed them - mainly Brienne - that Sansa Stark expected the three of them in her solar as soon as the horses were handed to the stable hand. Jamie led his further, approaching a young boy of no more than five and ten and dismounting Althea.

The horses are led away and Jamie found himself silently following Brienne and Pod over to the unfamiliar side of Winterfell's keep. He was accustomed to staying in the battlements, or in the guest areas of the ancient keep. The trio remained silent as they ascended the stairway to the solar, Brienne leading the way to the door. They arrived to find Sansa, dressed and ready to break her fast and with food for four others.

"Lady Sansa," -They greeted solemnly, each stepping through to let the next one in. The fair Lady stood and Jamie took a moment to release a held breath.

"Bran will be up here shortly. Maester Wolkan had Hylia go get him from the Godswood. Ser Jamie, good that my sister was able to persuade you from your suicide mission. A shame, however, that none of us were able of dissuading her from hers. We trust that perhaps Ser Sandor is able to knock sense into her."

They'd taken each a seat when the door opened, Bran being wheeled in by whom Jamie assumed as Hylia. When the five of them were all at the table, Sansa exchanged a look in Bran's direction. The latter then turned his ghastly gaze in Jamie's direction, offering a knowing smile that unnerved him.

"We couldn't let you chase a lie when the first child you could ever lay claim to, will be a winterborn."


	2. Chapter 2

Jaime woke up feeling heavy, his head aching from whatever happened when he had supper in Sansa's solar. Had Brienne finally struck a blow to the back of his head as he damn deserved? Wincing, he sat up on the feather bed, the furs dropping from his chest. Someone had gone out of the way to ensure he'd been pulled out of his armor and left in his small-clothes. Peering around the room, he caught Widow's Wail seated next to his - no, the bed. Jaime focused in the various aspects of the room, realizing at once that he was in Brienne's chambers. Frantically, he sought her - noting her clear absence from his side. The recollection of what led him here was starting to dawn on Jaime as he tore the remaining furs off.

Fire crackled in the well tended fireplace - bringing his attention to the fact that he needed to feed a few more logs to the flames in order to keep the room warm. Bringing himself to a stand, Jaime padded over to the logs and did the sensible thing. With a lot of effort, Jaime dressed and slid into his boots before running his hand through his hair. 

Brienne was with child.

_ His _ child, no less.

Jaime was trying to wrap his head around the words that Bran Stark levied upon him. War waged and he should be in the front lines, helping - but doing so would mean sacrificing all this could be. Then there was the whole matter of Cersei not being with child and the lies that came with it. He'd mucked this up beyond salvaging! Striding out of Brienne's rooms, Jaime headed on to the Great Hall where he was sure he could find any of the Starks. Anyone at this point, would be useful in helping him sort through what's just been said.

So many thoughts swirled in his head, primarily how selfish and hateful he had to be to besmirch the honor of Westeros' most honorable woman. The fact he'd gone as far as not suggest she drink her damned moon tea and decided to ride off to die for another unborn child that might as well have been a lie to entice him back into Cersei's machinations. He could almost imagine the cruel words and japes thrown carelessly in Brienne's direction. He did this to her and now…

"Wonderful of you to join us, Ser Jaime." - Sansa Stark's voice greeted him on sight as she rounded a corner, followed by Bronze Yohn Royce. The older Knight had chosen to stay behind with the rest of the injured men that wouldn't survive the trek to King's Landing. It was also said that this contingency of men were also busy reinforcing Winterfell, should the Dragon Queen choose to make a move against Lady Sansa. 

"Lady Sansa," - He blanched, unable to form the words to talk to the young Lady of Winterfell. - "If I ma-"

"Ser Brienne is at the sept, Ser Jaime. Maester Wolkan made his offer of Moon Tea to solve both your situation, she would have none of his words and chose to retreat to the sept until you were awake to make a conscious decision."

He swallowed the lump that formed on his throat. Sansa had grown very much to be a blend of Ned and Catelyn, hardened by a life of being toted around as a pawn to be used in a war that started because of Jaime and Cersei's choices. If anyone had every reason to scathe him, it'd be any of the Starks. So why in the seven hells were they helping him? - "Now, Ser Jaime, I don't know how the Westerlands handle the subject of bastards. But here in the North? We do not take so kindly to the idea. I'm sure you've met Jon."

There's a knowing look in Sansa's face, one that forces Jaime to read between the lines. - "I'm sure you recall how your own bastard son, Joffrey, had half the population of Kings Landing's bastards murdered."

"Joffrey, if you recall, Lady Sansa: was claimed by King Robert."

"Who was likely in his cups when he did it." - She parried verbally in the same way Tyrion did, a byproduct of her time with that _lecher_ Littlefinger. - "The point is, Ser Jaime, is that this is your chance to prove you've truly changed. If you weren't going back to die next to her, then prove yourself to Ser Brienne and to yourself. Your choices from here on, will be your only impression. Gone are the days the Lion of Lannister could swordplay his way through his troubles and gone are the days of the Lannister rule. If we're reshaping this world, Ser, we will begin with actions."

"Spoken like a Stark." - He surmised, giving her words some thought. - "Except, we recall I'm shit about making the right choices and my actions are what led to where I stand?"

"Make no mistake, I am well aware. Somewhere, in your never-ending strand of terrible choices, you made some decent ones. We all are capable of this, of mucking up. No better example of this than Theon Greyjoy." Sansa's voice dropped at the mention of Ned Stark's former ward. - "When it mattered the most, however, where was Theon?"- She asks, her eyes searching Jaime's own. She motioned him towards the dais, gesturing one of her attendants to serve Jaime as they took seats. - "Theon died protecting Bran. He died protecting Winterfell, _not_ the Iron Islands. It was a choice Theon himself made, Ser Jaime."

So little was said for what she meant and none of it missed Jaime, as other words would often escape over his comprehension. Blunt and to the point, Sansa Stark held a knowing grin over her usually stern features. Nothing else needed to be said and Jaime went on to eat his meal in comfortable silence. Every choice people made did not go amiss to the Starks of Winterfell and as always: **The North Rememers. **This was an adage the south used to mock the Northerners, but Jaime was coming to appreciate the way the Northeners had twisted it's condescending meaning to suit their purposes - "Lord Royce," - He caught her speaking to the Vale Knight - "Please tell Ser Brienne that Ser Jaime is breaking his fast. Advise her that she'll find better comfort in my Solar."

Translation:_ you two would be better off discussing this away from other prying eyes. _He did not know if he wanted to thank Sansa or not. Bronze Yohn Royce did as the Lady bid, not truly showing if he was judging Jaime or not. Though he was used to being judged for any perceived slight, Jaime would never get used to the opposite. To going unnoticed, or even willingly ignored. That didn't mean he didn't welcome the respite.

"Why not send Podrick?"- Jaime whispered in Sansa's direction and the woman offered a wry grin. She leaned close enough to offer an appropriate response. - "Podrick has been tasked with assisting Bran with some matters. We're to meet later on in the war room, Bran will explain after you and Brienne discuss your own matters."

Jaime finds himself unable to stand the idea of eating, but forces a few meager rolls down before turning to Sansa.

"My Lady," - He is careful to look around - "I am not as familiar with your holdfast as others are."

There was a slight swivel of Sansa's head, a shrewd smile as she so calmly addressed Jaime. - "Seven doors away from Brienne's quarters. Once you two are done, come find us in the family solar. We've much to discuss according to Bran."


	3. Chapter 3

The cold comfort of the Sept had done nothing to assuage Brienne's thoughts. Conflicted emotions played through her thoughts, intruding since the moment Jaime left in his attempts to save his child with Cersei. She prayed for the Mother to grant guidance in regards to her unplanned future. To the Crone, for wisdom regarding Ser Jaime's involvement in her life as she knew the decision to drink the moon-tea hinged on the two of them. Then again, who would tie themselves down willingly to a marriage with her? Her stomach felt in knots but there was no comfort in the Seven, just hollow cold air within the Sept. The familiar clank of armor forced Brienne to turn her head, hopeful to find Pod - instead greeted by the Lord of Runestone. 

  
It was Sansa's signal, the one she'd known to expect per their conversation the night before. - "Lord Royce," Brienne greeted solemnly, coming to a stand. - "Is Lady Sansa in need?"  
  


"You will find better comfort in her solar, Ser Brienne." - A knowing look and Brienne nodded, taking his offered leave. He did not follow, choosing to head on to the battlements as she hastily crossed her way to Lady Sansa's solar. Her armour clanked with each step taken, a comfort in the cold silence of Winterfell's halls. There is no need to knock upon arrival, as it would give her time to regret coming here - to see him. To face this man whom constantly called himself hateful and she found it in herself to try and comprehend his motives. But could she forgive? Pushing the door open, Brienne caught sight of Jaime Lannister. He stared out of the window, a forlorn look to him - gray splattered in the gold spun of his once lustrous hair. Lines maring his face, showing the years of a battleworn soldier. The Wars of the Seven Kingdoms had aged them all, tearing children asunder until they were adults far beyond their physical age. When Jaime's head turned, it took everything in Brienne's power not to speak.  
  


"You lied to me, Ser." - She broke silence, fashioning an icy stare in Jaime's direction. - "Which one is the lie, what you told me at the gates or what you said to Lady Arya?"  
  


"It is true what I said to Arya. It is true that I am a hateful man and everything I did was to return to her. But I was not returning for her."

  
"The child, of course."  
  


"I was hopeful to save at least one of my children. I...I hadn't thought of the possibility of us conceiving. Yet, that does not absolve me of being a hateful man who selfishly dishonored you, the paragon of the very honor I wish I were capable of."  
  


"Cannot dishonor a woman that gave freely, Ser Jaime."  
  


It was stalemate that Brienne knew he could not win. She stood with reason, a deep hurt in her eye that was no doubt brought forth by the insidious thought frame instilled by her Septa. As well as the barrage of bastards she'd encountered in her life. When Jaime shook his head, reaching clumsily, Brienne desperately wanted to pull away. Bracing emotionally, she gave no quarter:  
  


"I can take the moon tea," - She begins, moving away from Jaime's touch. The horrified expression to cross Jaime's face could almost undo her resolve. Almost. - "Jaime, I can go to many places in this world - but let us be honest, birthing a bastard would be the last straw Westeros will take from me."  
  
"We just saved their arses, yet Seven forbid we indulge in the fact we survived. We owe them nothing, Brienne!"  
  


Drawn aback by his outburst, Brienne blinked whilst attempting to process the passionate outpouring. There it was, the Jaime she'd seen prior to him trying to disappear to save Cers- **no** \- _ His _ unborn child. It was clear as day that Jaime had not wanted part of the final battle and Brienne needed to remind herself of his, lest she throttle him.   
  


"Do you want this child, Brienne?"   
  
Bluntness was the foundation of everything between them, it seemed. She had boldly called him Kingslayer to his face and he made no reservations of his own opinions. Had it not been for this, neither would have survived this journey. - "Because I want this child. I want everything that comes with us having a babe. I don't want… I..."  
  


Brienne blinked, unable to reply to the way Jaime seemed at a loss for words. Like looking at a dirty mirror, Brienne saw herself reflected in Jaime. Granted, the man before her was one of the most beautiful people in all of Westeros (well, what is left of it). Still, for all his outer beauty, the famed Kingslayer had been relegated to a bargaining chip, a pawn in a larger game and his sister-lover's dirtiest secret. He gave and loved freely, foolishly - like a Maiden in a Knight's song. A "Maiden", in a garrish version of a cautionary tale, he had all hopes ripped asunder.  
  
"You're tired of being someone's secret, the way I'm tired of being written off as a hopeless case." - Brienne surmised, catching the way Jaime's throat caught. She was a hopeless case, unable to secure a betrothal as a result of her "unfortunate" looks. Ronnet and Hyle had both been quick reminders of the fact. Yet, here stood Jaime, with all the beauty in the world - equally miserable as Brienne. Duty, she realized, was a double edged sword. One could have it all, like the Lannisters, yet lack sincerely in so many aspects. Coming to the realization had been easy for Brienne, after her years spent by the famed Kingslayer. The man could have had the world at his feet, whether by right of conquest or by Tywin simply willing it so for his heir. Or, one could be a noble yet humble house like Tarth and make up for it by attaining the love and loyalty of the people. The Evenstar might not be a name of consequence by large Westerosi standards, but when mentioned to the Stormlanders, many had a fond recollection of Selwyn. Could the same be said of House Lannister?  
  


"I am tired of this," - She saw Jaime wave his golden hand at their surroundings. - "I am sure you are, too."  
  


"Jaime..."  
  


"We've sworn too many oaths and we've seen many of them fulfilled, Brienne. This one I'll swear in front of the Seven and Old, I'll see it through until the day the Stranger takes me… If you'll have me."  
  
Brienne's gaze met Jaime's and she noticed just how alight his eyes had been, perhaps for the first time since they'd met. The irony, Brienne thought bitterly, is that her Septa wasn't here to witness this insanity happen. Swallowing a gulp she'd not notice get stuck in the back of her throat, Brienne wished to awaken from this nightmare for surely this could not be happening.   
  


"You once told me that oaths were sworn until they conflicted with one another. Why should I ask you to swear me an oath, if you're still sworn to another?"  
  
"Because too many times, I've been asked to bring dishonor unto myself by the very one I swore an oath to. That alone means I'm no longer beholden to any of them, why… you could almost say I'm an Oathbreaker."  
  
"Yet all were justifiably broken, it seems we're in a stalemate, Ser."  
  
"This one is an oath I'm choosing to make. I am yours, if you'll have me. If you can forgive what I said when I was merely trying to keep you safe."  
  
"You still lied."- Her eyes narrowed. - "It wasn't the fact you admitted to being a hateful being, I am well aware of your capability. The lie was saying you did this for her, instead of trusting me. You've trusted me so many times before and--" _And now I'm here, carrying our child and I don't know what else I can do? This was never my plan. _Brienne never saw Jaime shorten their distance. It was Jaime's hands cupping her face, pulling her towards his body that broke the reverie. - "If it meant keeping you here, safe and away from Cersei, I'd do it again. I would risk your eternal loathing if it meant you lived. I'm a hateful man, but I would be seven damned if I let Cersei do to you like she did Ellaria and Tyene."  
  
He knew what his sister had done to Ellaria and Tyene and though a part of him knew they had deserved their deaths for what happened to Myrcella and Trystane, Jaime felt sickened. It'd been Rickard and Brandon Stark, just less burning and a whole lot more sadism involved. He'd been kinder, one could suppose and just merely poisoned both mother and daughter. It was then that he'd begun realizing just how twisted his (once) sweet sister had become. It drilled Olenna's words home for Jaime. "What would you have done if she killed me, Jaime?"  
  
It'd been a blunt question with heavy implications for the once Kingslayer. His face turned into a grimace, the answer clear as day in the forefront of his mind. Leaning in, Jaime tried his damndest to hide the way the corner of his lips tugged ever so. - "If I killed a King to save all of King's Landing, what makes you think I wouldn't kill a Queen for you? You, Ser Brienne, represent everything I once aspired to _ be. _If I thought myself hateful for her, I dread to imagine what losing you would make me."  
  
Brienne blinked, feeling the truth in each pointed statement wash over her. - "I wanted to save the babe, yes, but my sister needed to answer for her crimes and did you honestly think she will willingly answer for them? Cersei will choose violence as she always has. The Golden Company, the Gold Cloaks, whatever is left of the Queensguard, The Iron Fleet. The innocent in Kings Landing will find themselves caught in the crossfires if I don't get her to surrender. At least that is what I thought."  
  
"But Lord Bran said differently." - Brienne surmised, reaching for Jaime in return. - "He has seen a different outcome to this entire war."  
  
"I hope he is correct and that Daenerys does not unleash her dragon fire upon King's Landing."  
  
"She shouldn't if she got the information I entrusted Tyrion with."- Brienne said assuredly, a knowing look. - "Before they left, I made sure to remind them of the caches. If they want King's Landing, the Dragons need to burn the Iron Fleet and allow for the remaining soldiers to take the capital by foot. If Cersei wants the caches lit, she'll need to order it herself."  
  
Brienne didn't see it coming, not when Jaime brought her face down to his and pressed a kiss to her lips. How could he have not warned his brother of this? Why hadn't he thought of it!? Grateful to have ever trusted Brienne with his past, Jaime felt the weight lift from his chest. If they listened, then perhaps there would be an easier way to retake the capitol and the damned Iron Throne. Give to whomever, he thought to himself, but let him finally enjoy peace.  
  
"Then what of our child?" - He asks when the kiss breaks. - "Where do we go from here?"  
  
"Betray me again and I'll cut you with Oathkeeper myself, Jaime."  
  
"Then technically you'd have to do it with Widow's Wail, as that'll be a more fitting sword to be in your possession."- He japed - "Your Lady Sansa does have a key point, neither the North - or Westeros - looks at Bastards too kindly. Be my wife, let me honor you for the rest of my days good Ser. Let go to wherever we wish to live the rest of our lives, whether it'd be Tarth or the Rock. It matters not to me."  
  
"I hear Northern ceremonies are much simpler than those we're accustomed to in the South."


End file.
